The Successor
by Baconfat
Summary: Squall and Rinoa and Squall, post-game. A fairy-tale princess and her Prince Charming. One-shot.


Squall was in a bad place, in Time Compression. Rinoa's sure of it. Or at least, she thinks she is. When she'd pulled him out, when she'd reached out and finally he was there, reaching back, she'd had the fleeting impression of a place that was cold and empty. Nothingness.

Aloneness. She can't imagine anything more terrifying. She tries hard not to.

Squall's been in a bad place, and she knows because of how he's been acting since then.

It was a long time before they released him from the Infirmary. She tried to ask him if there was something bothering him, and he said no. She tried to ask him what happened in Time Compression, and he said he didn't remember very well. Maybe that was because of the GFs.

He'd lost them, in Time Compression. None of the others had lost their GFs, but Rinoa thinks it would have been easy to lose a lot of things in that place. Memories, too. Maybe she'd lost some and she didn't even know it. Maybe they all had.

But it was okay, because they'd all made it back safe and sound, and the universe was still here, just like they remembered it.

Since then, Squall hasn't been _different_, just - better.

Sometimes bad experiences can do that to a person, she knows. _We all have to go through hard times. Surviving them and learning from them is what makes us who we are._ Rinoa knows.

If there were something bothering Squall, she'd know. He'd make that broody face of his, and scowl a lot, and refuse to talk to her about it until she pestered him enough.

She's hardly seen that scowly face of his at all, since then. Which is good. She told him to try and relax for a bit, and even - sure, it was probably too much to ask from him - to try and enjoy the time he had off before his next mission. And it was when she said that - when she mentioned the mission - that he tilted his head ever so slightly, and blinked, and said that he wouldn't leave her.

Was it before then, or after, that Quistis pointed out how happy Squall seemed with her? Before. Quistis said... she said it was hard to tell with him, but that she'd been watching him for years and she'd never seen him so happy.

Sometimes living through a bad experience could do that to a person, Rinoa knew. It made you appreciate life more. Appreciate the people around you, flaws and silly arguments and all.

It's good. It's a good thing.

Life is good, and everyone at Garden is in good spirits. The battles are over, and Squall and his team made it back all right, and after the big party it will be back to business as usual.

The celebration's been like something from a dream, or like the fancy parties Rinoa's parents used to throw. Champagne and chandeliers, glittering. Fancy dresses and fireworks. Just like the night they first met.

So much has changed since then. Rinoa watches him out of the corner of her eye, and he watches the waves like they're the most interesting thing he's ever seen. He's probably having another one of those silent arguments with himself; it's just a question of what about. She opens her mouth to say, _Alone on a balcony, on a beautiful night with a girl you like, aren't you going to say anything?_ But what comes out is, "What's on your mind?"

He answers, "You," like that's the only thing in the whole world.

She remembers being scared, in Time Compression. Here and now, it's hard to get her mind around it - nothing made sense there, and everything made sense all at once, up and down and sideways, everything and everyone and everytime all mixed up and melting together.

She was so scared. So she'd thought hard, really hard, of Squall, and the promise he'd made. She'd closed her eyes tight and bit her lip hard and fixed her mind on the flower field where they'd promised to meet. She concentrated on it until she couldn't imagine anything else, until she could picture every flower and every petal and every grain of pollen, until she could smell all those lovely different perfumes, until she could feel the breeze against her face.

She didn't even have to open her eyes, then, she was just... there.

She was there, and Squall wasn't, even though he'd promised.

And that was when she _really_ started to get scared, scared of where he might be, and of what was going to happen to them. If Squall were going to break a promise, he'd have a good reason for it.

_What if he forgot?_

And she thought, _No. We promised._

She told herself not to be afraid (_Just stay close to me_). She told herself she had to believe (_Love, friendship, and courage!_).

_Squall._

She closed her eyes tight, and gripped the rings on her necklace hard, and she thought of Squall.

_Squall._

She thought of Squall and that jacket he wore, the way the worn fur collar had felt on her arms when they'd held each other. The colour of his eyes, and the scar on his face, and his never-tidy hair, his belts and his scowl and his thick leather gloves. The sound of his voice and the flash of his gunblade and the feel of his silences.

_Squall._

She thought of everything he meant to her, and everything they could be together, everything they hadn't done and everything he'd never said, everything she was waiting for and everything he'd promised without saying a word.

_Squall._

There were so many things she wanted to hear him say.

_Squall._

She never got him to really open up.

_Squall._

She never ever _once_ saw him smile.

And then there he was, lying there, just like that old fairy tale, waiting for her to say the magic word and bring him to life.

And now here they are, back at Garden, everything all right and he kept his promise. A party going on behind them, everyone home and happy and celebrating. It's not really Squall's scene, a big party like that, but he'd danced when she'd asked him, and she'd danced when he'd asked her - once she got over the shock of it - and he'd actually seemed to be enjoying himself.

That was good. And this is good, too, just the two of them on the balcony, alone together. This what she wanted. All of it. Perfect.

Everyone keeps saying how happy he seems. What a change has come over him. How good it is to see him like that.

Rinoa wishes they would all just shut up.

Rinoa wishes he would stop staring at her like that.

Everything is perfect, just like she'd imagined, just like she'd wanted, just like she'd pictured it when she was looking for him in Time Compression. Everything is perfect, and he's -

He's perfect. Just like she wanted.

She looks down into the water and up into the night sky - not at him - and there's a shooting star, just like on the night they met. _(You're the best-looking guy here.)_

She points it out, and turns to him, and smiling isn't hard. When he smiles back, it doesn't feel strange and wrong. She isn't scared; there's nothing to be scared of anymore. The evil Sorceress is dead, and Time Compression is over, and Rinoa will never ever go back there. Everything is - perfect, perfect and right and wonderful and just like she always wanted. He is everything she wanted him to be, and everything is fine. He's not different. Just - better.

He moves closer, just like she wanted, and pulls her in, just like she imagined, and kisses her, just like she dreamed.

He tastes grey and wispy, like spiderwebs and fading dreams, like lies and Sorceress magic, and that's perfect too.

* * *

Time Compression is a dead and empty place.

_We failed_, Squall knows, and keeps walking. _We killed Ultimecia, but we failed._

A deserted, dessicated valley is spread out before him on all sides. All that open space, and still he's trapped.

_Keep walking._ His legs hurt, and his body aches, and the chain around his neck gets heavier and heavier. The orphanage seems very far away now, and Ultimecia's castle even further. When he turns to glance behind him, everything looks the same.

..._Maybe we didn't fail. Maybe it's just me, here._

Of course it's just him. All he has to do is look around and see how alone he is.

_Maybe the others made it out alright._

He tries to think of them, but searching for the memories is like grasping at cobwebs. Names and faces, none of them really there, nothing he can hold on to. He tries to remember them, and then tries to remember what he's trying to remember.

He tries to remember where or when or who he is, but his thoughts slip away, dissipating in the dry air and leaving nothing behind.

He tries to remember _Love_, and _Friendship_, and _Courage_, but all he's left with is _In the end, you're on your own._ It hurts, and he doesn't know why. It's so familiar, and he doesn't know why.

He tries to remember who he is, and his only clue is the medallion at his neck. _Griever_ is etched into the back, and he can't remember what that means.

Squall keeps walking, and walking, and walking.


End file.
